


For you, I would ruin myself (a million little times)

by meowvelous



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, F/F, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, How Do I Tag, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Past Relationship(s), Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Winter At Kaer Morhen, no beta we die like witchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26978911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowvelous/pseuds/meowvelous
Summary: Everyone knew how the process of finding your soulmate worked; the moment you locked eyes with them, both of you gained the ability to see the world in colour, instead of grey-scale. There was an additional twist, one much less well-known; if one soulmate rejected the other, both were plunged back into a grey-scale world.Jaskier's known for years that Geralt is his soulmate, ever since they met and colour flooded into his world. Geralt, on the other hand, has no idea. But Jaskier is sure if he proves himself to Geralt, that everything will work out. And then the mountain happens, and Jaskier isn't sure of anything anymore.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 844





	For you, I would ruin myself (a million little times)

_You showed me colours you know I can't see with anyone else_

—illicit affairs, Taylor Swift

Everyone knew how the process of finding your soulmate worked; the moment you locked eyes with them, both of you gained the ability to see the world in colour, instead of grey-scale. There was an additional twist, one much less well-known; if one soulmate rejected the other, both were plunged back into a grey-scale world.

It always surprised Jaskier that the second thing wasn’t more well-known. He’d been taught it as a child, by his grandmother, who’d settled for his grandfather after her soulmate refused to recognize their bond.

He never understood it, himself. Why someone wouldn’t want their soulmate, why someone would give up a chance to have happiness with them. Of course, Jaskier also never expected it to happen to him.

There was another glaring omission in soulmate lore; whether or not Witchers could have soulmates. Yes, it was a widespread belief that Witchers didn’t have feelings, so most assumed that they had no match.

Jaskier had never thought much on the matter, one way or the other. Until he locked eyes with a Witcher in Posada, and colour flooded into his world. Their ensuing conversation had Jaskier letting his mouth run away from him, while his mind frantically raced. The Witcher — Geralt, he learned — didn’t appear to react in any way to their meeting. Jaskier had no idea what that meant.

Two weeks into tagging along after Geralt, Jaskier learned _why_ Geralt hadn’t reacted.

It had been after a nasty battle with a harpy, and Geralt was bleeding profusely from a head wound. “What can I do to help?” Jaskier repeated, for the third time, as he hovered anxiously in front of the Witcher.

“It’s fine.” Geralt grunted, as he dug through his saddlebags. “I just need to... Damn it.” He cursed irritably as blood dripped into his eye, and he had to swipe it away.

“Here, let me—” Jaskier tried, reaching out, only to halt when that made Geralt bare his teeth at him.

“I can do it.” Finally, Geralt found what he was looking for; one of his potions, which he uncorked and drank. Near instantly, the blood clotted and the wound stopped bleeding. “You wouldn’t be able to tell anyway.” He explained, probably in hopes of deterring Jaskier’s attempts to help in the future. “They’re colour-coded.”

Whatever Jaskier was about to say next died on his lips. It took him a moment to gather himself, and ask; “You can, though? See in colour, then?”

“Yes.” Geralt replied succinctly. When Jaskier continued to look at him expectantly, he heaved a great irritated sigh and continued. “It’s part of the process they put us through in order to become Witchers. We need to be able to tell apart potions and ingredients. Besides,” He sneered. “It isn’t like anyone would accept a Witcher as their soulmate, anyway.”

“...Right.” Jaskier replied faintly, as he processed the information. Geralt didn’t know they were soulmates, and probably wouldn’t believe Jaskier if he confessed. The best way to go forward, Jaskier decided, was to prove his devotion to Geralt. Once the Witcher warmed to him, then Jaskier would tell the truth.

Jaskier later realized that his plan didn’t account for Geralt to have the emotional capacity of a puddle, with all the lack of self-awareness implied by that. Jaskier travelled with Geralt for _years_ , and the man still refused to even acknowledge Jaskier as a friend, let alone anything else.

It was difficult to carry on in face of Geralt’s apparent disinterest. Oh, there was a chance it was all just bluster. After all, Geralt was vocal about expressing his displeasure about anything, and he went along with Jaskier’s various harebrained schemes, such as acting as his bodyguard for the royal banquet.

And, perhaps most importantly, the colour hadn’t faded yet from Jaskier’s world. He tried to take that as a sign that Geralt cared for him in some capacity. But a part of Jaskier still worried, and that part had him holding back from telling Geralt that they were soulmates.

Being around Geralt without truly being _with_ him, was draining in a way that Jaskier had never experienced it before. It led to him regularly taking breaks from travelling with the Witcher, using the excuses of jobs or competitions elsewhere. For the sake of his own self esteem, it was gratifying to remember that other people actually enjoyed his company and talents. 

Not being acknowledged by one’s soulmate meant that Jaskier found no reason to keep himself celibate. Unfortunately, he had to go and set events in motion that jeopardized his future efforts to find such company. It happened after one particularly melancholy writing session (influenced by a bout of self pity and a great deal of ale), wherein Jaskier wrote an ode to the colour of Geralt’s eyes.

He put off performing it in public, figuring it wasn’t even that good anyway, until he was goaded into doing so during his stay with the Countess de Stael. She specifically requested “that one song you keep practicing”, and who was Jaskier to refuse his generous patron?

That the song soon grew in popularity among the local circle of nobles, and beyond, was unexpected. With it came the realization that the bard Jaskier was colour-struck, which resulted in rejection by some potential bedmates, and increased interest from others.

The Countess herself pursued Jaskier afterward; she later confessed that her soulmate had died, and it was a relief to be able to enjoy the company of someone without the worry of being tossed aside when the other found their soulmate. That Jaskier had found his soulmate, but had neither been accepted or rejected by them, meant that he was a free-agent. “After all,” She pointed out. “If you were committed to them, you wouldn’t have left their side.”

Jaskier had to admit she had a point, and in any case, he was glad to have a bedmate without the threat of an angry husband or wife.

Despite the understanding that their relationship was founded on, the Countess eventually found out that Jaskier still held out hope of reconciling with his soulmate, rather than have anything long-term with her. This discovery made her throw him both out of her bed and her estate.

After his breakup with the Countess, Jaskier indulged in some wallowing. While she hadn’t been his universe ordained other-half or anything, he had cared for her and enjoyed their time together. Then Jaskier was reunited with Geralt, and there was the whole mess with the djinn, and the arrival of Yennefer.

Which — yes, it stung to learn that Geralt _was_ capable of feelings. They just unfortunately happened to be directed towards someone who wasn’t Jaskier.

“But why _her_ though?” Jaskier pressed one night afterward, when he had a great deal to drink. It was part of his coping process for his soulmate latching onto crazy bitchy sorceresses. “You’re not even soulmates!”

For some reason, that made Geralt frown at Jaskier, until he grew self-conscious. “What, is there something on my face?” Jaskier asked, hand raising to swipe away whatever was there.

“I didn’t expect you to care about soulmates.” Geralt replied. “Since you found yours, but didn’t stay with them.”

The alcohol delayed Jaskier in processing those words. “I—” He stumbled as he tried to think of an appropriate reply. “How did you know I was colour-struck?”

Geralt grimaced, looking away. “That song of yours,” He admitted. “The one that’s all about the colour yellow.”

“...Right.” Jaskier replied faintly, as he resisted the urge to slam his head into the table they were at, or maybe cry or laugh hysterically. “Yes, well, those are rather... extenuating circumstances.” He hadn’t realized that Geralt was aware of that song, and yet somehow remained oblivious that it was _written about him_.

“If you say so.” Geralt rolled his eyes. “Yen and I aren’t soulmates, she hasn’t found hers yet. But until she does...” He shrugged.

Without Geralt saying so, Jaskier’s brain completed the sentiment; regardless of whether he was matched with Yennefer, Geralt loved her anyway, and had resigned himself to losing her eventually.

“Well. Good luck with that.” Jaskier raised his glass in a toast to Geralt, before downing the rest of it.

Things ticked along, and they ended up on the dragon hunt, with Geralt desperately trying to get Yennefer’s attention, while Jaskier tried to pretend not to notice or care. So, business as usual then, for the clusterfuck that Jaskier’s life had become.

One night when they were making camp, Jaskier was off gathering firewood. He turned to return to the group, and bit back a yelp of surprise when he saw Yennefer standing in front of him.

“Who is it?” Yennefer asked.

Jaskier blinked at her. “What?”

She cleared her throat, and sang; “ _Your skin, oh yeah your skin and bones, turn into something beautiful._ ” Her voice was surprisingly lovely, because of course it was. Yennefer returned to speaking to ask, “Your soulmate, who are they?”

Suddenly Jaskier was exhausted. It was too much to be asked that question by the one his soulmate chose. “It doesn't matter.” And if his tone was too honest, and a bit bitter, well, it wasn’t like Jaskier particularly cared when Yennefer thought. He turned and left, ignoring the weight of her thoughtful gaze on his back.

And then, of course, after everything went to Hell and back, Jaskier just had to go and stick his fucking foot in his mouth. Talking to Geralt _directly after_ Yennefer broke up with him, wasn’t among his better ideas.

In Jaskier’s defense, he wasn’t expecting it to go _that_ poorly.

Or for the colour to slowly drain from his world, until everything was in grey-scale once more.

After the mountain, he stopped travelling with Geralt. And he stopped singing the song, too. No matter how often it was requested, Jaskier found some way to laugh it off and suggest another song in its place.

He wasn’t expecting anyone to notice, or care.

It took three months for his path to cross with Geralt’s again. Jaskier didn’t realize until the middle of his set that the Witcher was in the audience. Long practice stopped him from fumbling his lute, and Jaskier was fairly proud of himself for being able to carry on performing.

Once he was finished and had collected his coin, Jaskier was incredibly tempted to disappear upstairs. As a compromise, he settled in a seat someone gave up for him on the other side of the inn from Geralt. Jaskier entertained his adoring fans, who slowly began to trickle off. Lurking behind them was Geralt, who glared at the more persistent ones until they too turned tail and fled.

It left just the two of them. Jaskier was surprised when Geralt passed him a tankard of ale, as a clear peace offering, before sitting down across from him.

Uncomfortable silence hung in the air between the two men. The surprises continued as Geralt cleared his throat and spoke; “You didn’t sing your song.” At Jaskier’s questioning look, he clarified, “The yellow one.”

Jaskier bit down on his lip, hard enough to taste blood. Judging by the widening of Geralt’s eyes, he noticed the reaction, while still not understanding the cause of it. “Oh, that.” Jaskier was proud that his voice wasn’t shaking, at least. “I can’t see colours anymore. Ruins the whole thing, really.”

Around his own tankard, Geralt’s grip tightened. He looked murderous, apparently on Jaskier’s behalf; ready to hunt down and shake whoever rejected Jaskier — without realizing that he himself was the cause.

Biting back a hysterical laugh, Jaskier took a long swig of ale to try and calm his nerves. “Well!” He said, with mock cheer, standing. “As lovely as getting caught up has been, I really must be going. You know how it is; shows to perform, people to charm. I’ve heard I’m highly requested in Flovive.”

“I’ll go with you.” Geralt stood as well. “They’re having an issue with drowners.”

“Oh, did I say Flovive? I meant to say Coronata.” Jaskier improvised.

“There’s also drowners there.” Geralt replied.

There was a long moment of them staring at each other. Jaskier was the first to look away. His voice was weak as he said, “Let’s go in the morning, then. I’m quite tired, after all.” Before Geralt could say anything else, Jaskier grabbed his lute case and wound his way through the crowd and upstairs.

It wasn’t among his proudest moments, waiting a few hours and then slipping away into the night, but, well. Desperate times, and all that. He headed north, away from either of the villages that he’d mentioned.

Then war erupted across the country, and a baffling series of events led to Jaskier running into Geralt, who’d found his child surprise, after all. The Nilfgaardian army sought the heir to Cintra, the Witcher who was rumoured to have found her, and— Jaskier. For some reason.

“They know that we travelled together. They think that you’d be able to help them find us.” Geralt explained, one evening when Jaskier tried, once more, to make his excuses and leave.

And... If it was just Geralt who Jaskier was putting at risk, Jaskier would take the chance (never mind that it tasted like a lie even to himself). But... Ciri gazed at him across the fire, with Pavetta’s eyes, and Jaskier felt the fight go out of him.

Which was how Jaskier found himself wintering at Kaer Morhen, of all places. Among the awful that had become his life (being in close quarters with Geralt; being in the _same room_ as Geralt and Yennefer - who’d arrived to train Ciri; visiting Geralt’s home and meeting his family, only out of necessity...) was the moment when Lambert requested Jaskier sing “that one song, about the colour yellow.” with a knowing smirk at Geralt (who narrowed his eyes, still clueless, but at least picking up that he was being made fun of, somehow).

Swallowing with a click, Jaskier wondered what his heart rate had just done, to earn glances from all the Witchers in the room (varying from curious apathy - Vesemir, to a _sympathy_ of all things from Aiden). “I’m afraid I can’t do that one justice any more,” Jaskier managed to say. “Now that I’m no longer colorstruck. What about this one, instead.” He launched into one of his other songs.

Jaskier didn’t need Witcher-enhanced hearing to pick up Lambert defensively asking Aiden how he was supposed to know, then? When Aiden elbowed him viciously.

The evening progressed on, and Jaskier had hoped that the small incident would’ve been forgotten. But because it was just his luck, he found himself cornered by Ciri in the library the next day.

“It was Geralt, wasn’t it?” Ciri asked, her voice soft; hopefully soft enough for the conversation to remain between them. “He’s your soulmate; that song that you won’t sing anymore is about him.”

From where he’d been pulling out a book, Jaskier froze, swallowed, and gave a jerky nod. He managed a weak approximation of a smile as he turned to face her. “Top points.” Jaskier struggled to keep his voice light. “Geralt never did manage to figure that one out.”

Ciri rolled her eyes, looking much older than her actual age. “Geralt is bad at feelings.” She pointed out, surprising a laugh out of Jaskier.

“That... That he is.” He agreed, with a wistful smile, and far too much fondness.

Those uncanny blue eyes remained fixed on Jaskier as Ciri stared him down. “You still love him, don’t you. Even though he rejected you.” She pressed.

“Yes,” Jaskier sighed, because, what else could he say, but the truth? “It’s rather difficult to get over someone, when... When you spent so long with them, and they meant so much to you.” He let out a surprised “oof” when Ciri quickly crossed the library and gave him a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” She said, voice slightly muffled. “For bringing it up. It must be painful.”

With a sigh, Jaskier gently patted her head. “I don’t blame you for wanting to know. And... It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.” He’d had years to mourn the future he’d imagined between him and Geralt, and to try and move past the rejection.

“So... What else is Geralt oblivious to?” Ciri asked as she drew back, smiling mischievously.

Taking the subject change for what it was, Jaskier laughed. “That would take the rest of the winter to recount. To start with, though...”

Two days later found Jaskier once again in the library (it was warmer than the other rooms, bookshelves providing insulation, and heat emanating from the large hearth in it). He was working on the lyrics to a new song, when someone sat down across from him.

He glanced up, and was surprised to see it was Geralt. 

It wasn’t as if Jaskier was avoiding Geralt, exactly. It just so happened that the Witcher was often busy training Ciri, while Jaskier mostly remained in his room or in the library, and they only really saw each other at the evening meal.

The fact that Yennefer had broken up with Geralt on the mountain was burned into his mind; Regardless, Jaskier had assumed they’d gotten back together. After all, they basically had a child together, now. Soulmates aside, that had to mean something.

Which was why Jaskier was baffled when the first words out of Geralt’s mouth were, “I’m going to kill Yennefer.”

Quill paused in the middle of a word, Jaskier frozen, before quickly scribbling down the gist of his thoughts. That done, he focused on Geralt. “Oh?” The fact that he was willing to listen to Geralt speak about his girlfriend, in order to spend more time with Geralt, probably said several unflattering things about Jaskier.

“She keeps... Looking at me. And laughing.” Geralt spoke through gritted teeth. “Like she knows something that I don’t.”

Thus far, Jaskier had also been successful in avoiding Yennefer. “I can honestly say that I have no idea what that could be.” He shrugged. “Seems rather unbecoming though, for you to threaten violence towards your girlfriend, and the mother of your child.” His voice came out more bitter than he would’ve liked, but who could blame him? Jaskier was doing his best.

Brow furrowed in confusion, Geralt stared at Jaskier. “She’s not my girlfriend. We never got back together. And she’s found her soulmate.”

“Really?” Jaskier raised his eyebrows, surprised. “What unfortunate sod did Destiny decide to burden with Yennefer?”

Geralt’s mouth flattened in an unamused line; whether it was the mention of Destiny, or the insult towards Yennefer, Jaskier wasn’t sure. But all that Geralt said was, “Her name is Triss. Triss Merigold.”

“Good luck, Triss.” Jaskier replied lightly, before turning back to his parchment. He tried to pick his thoughts back up, ignoring the feeling that Geralt was watching him. Soon, Jaskier was genuinely absorbed in writing and lost track of the outside world.

He jolted back to reality when something nudged against his foot. Jaskier looked up, and was surprised to realize that Geralt was still sitting across from him. “Yes?” He asked cautiously.

“It’s time for dinner.” Geralt said, and if Jaskier didn’t know any better, he’d say the Witcher almost looked... Fond. Which was impossible, and clearly Jaskier was seeing things because he needed to eat.

After gathering up his papers, Jaskier cleared his throat. “We should go, then. If we take too long, Lambert will have eaten all the rolls, _again_.” With an amused sound, Geralt trailed after Jaskier as they left the room and headed to the dining hall.

In the days that followed, Geralt seemed to make an effort to seek out Jaskier. He didn’t always spend as long a time with him, but Jaskier saw him in the library at least once a day. Jaskier... didn’t know what that meant. Whenever he felt his hopes start to rise, all he had to do was look around; the fact that the world was still in grey-scale was a harsh enough reminder of how Geralt felt about him.

Ciri too, began to show up more frequently in the library whenever she had a spare moment. She requested that Jaskier teach her how to play ‘Yellow’, and while it was painful to sing it once more, he found he couldn’t say no to her.

Towards mid-winter, Jaskier even ended up meeting Triss, when Yennefer portalled the other woman to Kaer Morhen. While there was a part of Jaskier that was still nursing a broken heart, something inside him slowly relaxed as the group spent more time together. Over short days and long nights, he got to know Triss, observing how clearly besotted she and Yennefer were with one another. It was sweet.

Things were... fine. They could have been better, but the winter was shaping up to be less awful than he had anticipated.

Surprisingly, it was Yennefer who ended the painfully platonic stalemate that Jaskier found himself in with Geralt. That day, Ciri had requested, with no small amount of mischievousness, for Jaskier to perform ‘Yellow’. She insisted that seeing him play would help her understand the song’s fingering better.

Unable to deny her, Jaskier sang, purposely avoiding looking at Geralt. But like a magnet, Jaskier found his gaze drawn to the other man, and they locked eyes as he finished the song.

Silence held for a long moment, until Yennefer spoke. “I can’t take it anymore!” She announced, abruptly standing up. “You—” She pointed at Geralt. “Need to tell Jaskier how you feel. And you—” At Jaskier, “Need to tell Geralt _why_ you’re not colourstruck anymore.”

Both men immediately began to protest, only to be cut off by a derisive noise from Yennefer. “No. No, you are going to _talk_ , because I cannot put up with another moment of this _pining_.”

“It is getting to be a bit pathetic.” Triss chimed in, with soft sympathy to try and soothe the sting of her words.

Something finally sunk for Geralt. “Why does he need to tell me about that?”

Yennefer made a noiseless yell of frustration and stormed out of the room. Triss smiled and followed after her soulmate, with Ciri hot on her heels. Jaskier and Geralt just stared at each other.

“You don’t need to.” Jaskier said, breaking the silence. “I already know quite well how you feel. You were _very_ eloquent about it, back on the mountain.”

For some reason, Geralt seemed dismayed with that. He frowned. “That was... years ago.”

“...And?” Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “I understand that you felt no need to apologize; you were just being honest.” He shrugged. “I’ve come to terms with it.” Which was _mostly_ true.

“I didn’t mean it.” Geralt admitted, causing Jaskier to gape at him in shock. “But I understand that you don’t want to travel with me anymore. We’ll think of some way to keep you safe in the spring.”

“I—” Jaskier valiantly tried to gather his scattered wits. “I’m confused.” He swallowed. “I _know_ you meant what you said, because...” Suddenly, he was exhausted, tired of them dancing about one another. “I couldn’t see colours after you rejected me on the mountain. Even if you want us to try and be _friends_ again, I—I don’t think I can do it.”

Geralt froze. “...What?”

Suddenly, Jaskier’s emotions flipped from sadness to anger. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific. Are you confused by me saying we were friends? Or is it the part where you rejected me?”

Finally, it dawned on Geralt. “I'm your soulmate. That song... It’s about me?” He asked.

With blinding clarity, Jaskier understood exactly why Yennefer had lost her temper earlier. “Yes! Who else do I know who has yellow eyes?”

“I thought... it was a metaphor.” Geralt admitted.

“Oh, look at the Witcher, doing song analysis.” Jaskier snarked, before pinching his nose and sighing. “Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. But yes. It’s about you. I’ve known you were my soulmate since we met.”

“All those years...” The Witcher seemed faintly awestruck. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

The burst of laughter wasn’t a happy one. “Like you would’ve believed me, or cared.” Jaskier sighed and shrugged. “I always thought we’d work up to it, but...”

“But then I yelled at you and rejected you.” Geralt finished.

Jaskier nodded.

There was a pause, until Geralt spoke again. “Just because we’re soulmates, doesn’t mean...” He trailed off, and made a short noise of frustration. “It’s magic doesn’t affect me, but after all I’ve put you through... You probably don’t want anything to do with me.”

“How are you consistently _so wrong_ about these things?” Jaskier asked, throwing his hands up in the air. “I _still_ love you, you dolt. Yes, even after you rejected me, and told me to fuck off, and avoided me for years.”

“...You left. When we saw each other again after the mountain.” Geralt pointed out.

“Yes, well.” Jaskier deflated slightly and cleared his throat. “It wasn’t like you tried again after that.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to.” Geralt kept his unnerving cat-eyed gaze on Jaskier.

Finding he had to look away, Jaskier tried not to lose his resolve. “We’ve already established that your judgement on these matters isn’t to be trusted.” He startled as Geralt stood and slowly approached him. “What are you doing?” Jaskier asked, eyeing him warily.

The library was filled with moderately comfortable chairs, a concession to the time it was needed to spend in them. Jaskier was sitting on one such chair. He swallowed heavily as Geralt knelt down in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt finally said. “I’m sorry for what I said on the mountain. What I said to you, and letting you go, are among the worst mistakes that I’ve ever made. Can you forgive me?”

“I...” Jaskier found his throat was dry, and had to swallow before he spoke. Under Geralt’s imploring gaze, the anger he had held onto for so many years melted away like snow in the spring. “Of course.” He sighed.

“And...” Geralt hesitated once more, and then moving slowly, so Jaskier could draw back if he wanted, reached for his hand. Jaskier let him envelop it in both of his broad hands. “If I were to say that I love you too?”

As Geralt said those words, Jaskier bit back a gasp as colour flooded back into his world. Tears welled up in his eyes. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He admitted, fisting his free hand in Geralt’s shirt, and pulling him into a kiss.

When they drew apart, Geralt remained close, resting his forehead against Jaskier’s, as both basked in the moment. There was more to be done, to relearn each other, and how to be together again. But the winter was long, and one day it would be spring.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the TSwift song quoted at the beginning; Jaskier's song about Geralt is, of course, Yellow by Coldplay (the file name for this wip was 'Coldplay - Yellow (acoustic)'). Big ups to the Witcher server I'm on, I wouldn't have been able to finish this without y'all. <3
> 
> p.s. Wanna buy me a coffee? Or got an idea you'd like me to write? Check my twitter (@thegr8atuin) for more info!


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